


If You Ask, We Will Answer

by Velocity_Owl87



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Caretaking, Don’t copy to another site, Established Relationship, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Major Character Injury, Missions Gone Wrong, Multi, Physical Disability, Polyamory, Slice of Life, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23334298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velocity_Owl87/pseuds/Velocity_Owl87
Summary: Jack's been called out on a mission that has left him injured, leaving his partners, Stevie and Brock, desperately wanting to take care of him and pamper him until he feels better. Something that Jack resists until he understands the meaning behind the gesture.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	If You Ask, We Will Answer

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly wrote this wanting to cheer myself up considering what is going on out there, and also was inspired by a gif set of Callan Mulvey making someone breakfast and being all soft about it. 
> 
> It's a standalone, but it could be seen as a loose sequel to "The One You'd Take The Bullet For Pulled The Trigger" You don't have to read this one. It stands on it's own and works on the premise that Cap is genderswapped and in a relationship with Brock and Jack and they share a kid. 
> 
> There also might be some commentary on ableism due to one of the characters being disabled and some of the Medical stuff may be wonky due to me not being in the field. I did my homework, but I could be off, so apologies in advance.

Stevie came out of the bedroom and closed the door gently behind her, frowning when the smell of coffee and eggs came wafting down the hall. 

Had she left something on the stove while she checked on Jack? 

Concerned, she followed the scent to the kitchen and couldn’t help but to smile when she saw what had caused the scent. 

Brock had his back to her and he was busy manning the stove while the coffee maker burbled happily on the counter, making Stevie’s own mouth water with the promise of fresh brewed Guatemalan coffee. 

“What’s the occasion?” Stevie asked as she moved to the island and sat on a chair, content to watch Brock indulge in his passion for cooking. Something that he had honed and refined as he got more used to being a part time office agent, rather than a field operative. Stevie and Jack hadn’t minded and mostly basked in the tasty home-cooked meals Brock was now known for. 

“Better than being known as a traitor. Or a cripple.” He had explained with a self-deprecating smirk as he had wheeled two amazingly plated meals over to Stevie and Jack and had openly basked in their adoration and praise.

They had more than amply rewarded him for it, Stevie recalled, hiding a grin at the remembrance of a rare free night, with James and Nat taking pity on them and minding Callan as a favour. 

It had been a good night, she recalled, idly playing back the memories as she propped her elbow on the counter and rested her chin in her palm. She remembered all of it until it had been time to say their goodbyes to Jack. That part she didn’t care to dwell on. Especially not with what happened after. 

“Steivie, you still beating yourself up over what happened, or are you trying to get a peek at my guns?” 

Brock’s sudden question startled her so much that she jolted hard enough for her to nearly plant her face onto the counter. It took her a few moments to recover, scowling at a snickering Brock as he plated a gorgeous breakfast of a well made omelet and cut up mango and yellow kiwi on the side. He smiled sweetly at her, flexing his biceps as he wheeled himself over to the cupboard, got a mug out and poured coffee in it, leaving an inch for cream before putting it on the tray that slotted perfectly into his wheelchair. 

“What? Brock, seriously?” Stevie snorted, rolling her eyes as she watched him carefully move towards their bedroom. 

“So it  _ wasn’t _ my arms you were checking out then.” He teased her, waiting for her to slide off the stool and walk with him once she put together where he was going. 

“Brock, as impressive as your arms and chest and abs are, for once no, I wasn’t checking them out. And I wasn’t beating myself up over what happened to Jack.” Stevie snipped back, making Brock pause and squint up at her. 

“Darling, despite you having lapsed in your faith, you are still a champion at carrying that Catholic guilt  _ so _ well. And I should know. Hell’s Kitchen has its own flavour.”

Stevie chewed on her lip and fiddled with the long ponytail she now kept her hair in. Easier to train in and easier to keep Callan’s hands from getting tangled in the golden lengths. She finished and spread her arms wide before putting her hands on her hips. 

“How can I not, Brock? I was the one that suggested he go. I basically sent him to get himself killed, which was utter skill and luck on his and Nat’s part.” She paused and rubbed her forehead. “Nat was in the right place and the right time and Jack  _ still  _ got hurt. And if Bucky and Sam hadn’t acted quickly...How can I not feel guilty?”

Brock nodded at that. “You sent him in, but it was  _ Jack _ that made the choice, Stef. He was a mercenary years before you were even defrosted. Jack was aware of the risks. He faced them whenever he went on a mission or a raid. Remember that. You are also a soldier.”

Brock’s words felt like an icy wave splashing over her, making her flinch as they sunk in. As blunt as they were, she needed to hear them. She knew all of that. She had read their files as she had helped rebuild SHIELD from the gutting it had received at Hydra’s hands. Her eyes had widened at both Brock’s and Jack’s resumes. 

And yet…

“He is retired. Jack wouldn’t have gone if I hadn’t asked it of him.” 

Brock snorted. “Please. That’s horseshit and you know it very well. Jack doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to. Orders or not. Besides, do you think you’re making it any better, taking away his agency so you can be the martyr here?”

That shot stung, Stevie had to admit. Her hands curled up into fists, making Brock huff a laugh. 

“Got it in one, didn’t I? Barnes did say that you liked to do that when a mission went pear shaped. You have to accept that it’s not always going to go a hundred percent. Especially not when it comes to Hydra. Besides, Jack got out. Don’t forget that.”

Brock reminded her, pushing himself past her towards the bedroom where Jack lay. 

“And I kind of want to get this to Jack before it’s ice cold. We can deal with your guilt complex after.” 

Stevie shook her head as she walked beside him and gave his shoulder a squeeze before she opened the door and stepped back to let him through first. The doorway was wide enough, but she knew how much Brock hated being pushed aside and being cut in front of. 

As if he was invisible and didn’t deserve respect simply because he was in a wheelchair. So she and Jack had made a point to never do that in their home and call out anyone that dared to do it in public. It was amazing how quickly people remembered their manners when Captain America and a six foot four SHIELD agent glared at them if they dared to cut in front of Brock. 

Brock went ahead in the darkened room, a necessity with Jack’s concussion and Stevie only just remembered to not flip on the switch. Even though it was more than likely that Jack was asleep. He had gotten a pretty bad concussion from the bomb trap. Along with a broken left arm and leg, both breaks being bad enough to need pins in them.

“Going to be like grandad's workshop drawer!” Jack had murmured when they had been able to finally see him in the medical center a week earlier. His words were barely coherent, but it was enough to make Brock huff a quiet laugh and for Stevie to let out a nervous giggle. Jack hadn’t minded and only pulled them closer. 

It had become a habit when he was awake, to pull whoever was closer and embrace them with as much strength as he could muster up. As if he needed proof that they were both there and it wasn’t just a confused dream leaking into reality. 

Right now, he was still asleep, bruises and cuts marring his face alongside the dark smudges of exhaustion and injury under his eyes. As much as they both hated to wake him, he needed to eat. And it would be a shame to let Brock’s breakfast go to waste. 

“Jack? Babe, wake up.” Brock called out, reaching out to gently shake him to wake him up. 

Jack took a few moments to fully gain consciousness, blinking those bright green eyes of his and stirring amongst the pillows and thick blankets that kept him warm and comfortable. He yawned and smiled at Brock and Stevie as he moved to try and sit up, only for Stevie to come in help him.

“Got some breakfast for you.” Brock announced as Stevie set up the bed tray for Brock to slide the tray he was carrying onto it, making Jack smile widely despite still being sleepy. 

“An omelette? What’s the special occasion?” Jack asked as Stevie and Brock settled near him, Stevie already cutting up his food in smaller pieces for him to be able to eat it one handed. 

“You being able to eat real food. And also being here. With us.” Stevie told him, kissing the only uninjured side of his face while Brock kissed his shoulder. 

Jack smiled, kissing her and then Brock. “You didn’t have to. I mean, I could have just gotten some toast later-”

“We wanted to. And you deserve more than toast, darling. Now eat up. Don’t let this go to waste.” Brock interrupted gruffly, kissing him and effectively stopping any further protests.

When Brock pulled away, Stef already had a piece of the omelette near Jack’s mouth. 

“Eat.” She encouraged Jack, who gave her a soft look as he did, letting out a groan of delight as the flavours of the Mexican omelette burst forth in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, feeling only vaguely self conscious at being fed in bed. 

“Don’t Jack. You have taken care of us so many times. Let us do this for you. Please.” Brock explained softly, letting his concern shine through. 

Jack got it. He really did. He had been on the opposite side of that equation too many times with both of them. He knew the need to nurture and take care of a loved one. And feeling helpless when there was so little to do. Or worse, be pushed away. 

And as much as he wanted to insist that he was fine, he wasn’t. 

He had honestly thought he was going to die when the bombs went off. He had lain there, his ears ringing and blood dripping down his face, his arm and leg in pieces and his heart hammering like a jackrabbit. He was sure he was going to die there in that Soviet bunker with the snow stained red with his blood.

And he hated the thought that he wouldn’t ever see  _ them _ again. Never laugh at Brock’s jokes, or leave a trail of kisses down Stevie’s spine as they lay in bed. Or see Callan grow up. He was going to die and miss all of that. 

And then Romanova had appeared and Jack didn’t know anything else until he woke up with a grim Brock and a red-eyed Stevie beside him. 

And he never had felt so much relief and joy at being alive as he had that moment. 

“Okay. Yes.” 

Stevie and Brock both leaned over and kissed him, right before he got another bite of omelette, making him wonder why he had resisted this in the first place. 

He could definitely get used to this!

But Jack wouldn’t ever admit it. Even though he was sure that both Brock and Stevie knew.

“Of course we do. But we don’t mind. Now eat up.” Stevie murmured, making him laugh quietly and take the food, while Brock stole a sip of his coffee. 

This was definitely where he was supposed to be. Definitely. 


End file.
